


British Bulldog

by The_End_of_the_Chase



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: British Empire, British Military, Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8860753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_End_of_the_Chase/pseuds/The_End_of_the_Chase
Summary: For the LJ watsons_woes Watson has got a gun 500-word challenge.





	

**Indian/Afghan border, 1879**

Tired, he is, but spares a smile as he tosses the tunic across. Is there tea brewing (of course); would I see my way clear to sorting his jacket ( _yes_ , sir); and oh, Assistant Surgeon Watson has got a _gun_ (not a sight too soon): in the inner pocket there, and could I be cleaning that and all.

"Third toggle off in a _week_. Are you _eating_ them, or - what in _hell_ is _this_?"

"A four-four-two Webley British Bulldog," he informs me brightly. "Small, rather scuffed about the edges, and potentially lethal at close range. Not entirely dissimilar to yourself."

"There's nothing bloody _to_ it!" Tiny, snub little thing, barrel barely a couple of inches...which leads to a sudden nasty notion. "Just _how_ close a range?"

"Effective, you mean? Twenty yards or so, officially. Fifteen from actually _testing_ that rather optimistic assessment..."

Fifteen yards.

Nine or ten full paces of mine, less of his. Distance from med tent three to the supplies stores. Eight of Sergeant Morgan laid cap to boots, and he's not an especially tall lad, him.

Fifteen _yards_.

Hell, I know any revolver seems nothing beside a Martini-Henry, _but_... "There's others as do twice, three times that. This is a _civilian_ gun, boyo. Close-quarters self-defence only."

"Eminently suitable for a putative non-combatant, then," sighs he, with a bit of an edge. "Captain Torrance of the Signals finds his own perfectly adequate. I pray I shan't ever have recourse to... Really, your unaccountable ire would be better directed towards a wretched system which obliges officers to secure their personal weapons out of their own pockets, for my funds simply wouldn't run to more - Corporal, what precise concern is it of yours?"

What I snarl - silently - towards the kettle in my hand is that his orderly's five years bearing a red cross has not yet scratched out the habits of six spent in a red coat; that Ghazis don't give a damn for that same cross on your sleeve, and that _fifteen yards_ is still ground short enough to have a full-pelt charging bugger at your throat afore you've even _aimed_ a second shot. That it ain't Captain bleeding _Torrance_ spilling broken onto the dirt which lately splinters my sleep of a night, and that somehow (to my surprise), somewhere between that tiny field hospital near Bombay and hovering here on the Afghan border, keeping Assistant Surgeon Watson upright and breathing became a rather major _concern_ of mine.

More so than keeping Corporal Murray in one piece, come to think of it.

"British Bulldog," I settle for muttering, handing across his tea. "Bull-bloody- _pup_ , more like."

He laughs then, brief and temporary insubordination dismissed (as does usually happen). "It fits commendably neatly into a field valise, after all."

It could be fitting in my _mug_. "Don't see how you're content trusting your life to such a scruffy little thing as that..."

"Indeed?" A flick, gentle, to the back of my collar. "I believe there exists a certain degree of precedent."

**Author's Note:**

> Marketed chiefly as a civilian weapon, the rather short and stubby .442 Webley British Bulldog, despite its comparatively short range of effective fire, was indeed employed by several officers of the British Army during various colonial conflicts. I'll admit, I tend to envisage Watson with a Mk.II or Mk.III Adams as far as a service revolver goes, but the opportunity for a gratuitous bull-pup reference was just too good to pass up.


End file.
